Through the Dimrill Gate
by iced1
Summary: ‘I too once passed through the Dimrill Gate,’ said Aragorn quietly; ‘but though I also came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time.’ - the story of Aragorn's first trip in Moria [complete]
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: This is the silly sentence that states the obvious that is meant to head every chapter, but it'll only be appearing in this one. Just to clear that up. _I do not own Lord of the Rings and I most certainly do not own any of the characters in this story._**

This is my third fanfiction. :yay: and the only one I am pleased with, as I am on the verge of deleting my other two and rewriting them. Basically, it's just Aragorn's evil memory of his trip _Through the Dimrill Gate_. read, review. You know the drill... hopefully.

_'I too once passed through the Dimrill Gate,' said Aragorn quietly; 'but though I also came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time.'_

**Chapter One**

The dark sky was clouded with the falling snow that fell quickly to the ground. The path through the Misty Mountains was hidden from view by the fresh white blanket that had collected over the past few hours. Not a star was in the sky, and the small sliver of moonlight illuminated the swirling snow that blocked out all sight of the lush green trees that stood at the bottom of the mountain. The wind began to howl, blowing stronger and stronger at the hunched young man of twenty years, who was clutching his worn traveling cloak to his shivering body as he trudged through the snow, pushing him back. He was clad in Elvish traveling attire: a turquoise cloak, an emerald green tunic and pair of breeches and his soft leather boots left deep imprints in the snow behind him. He wore a hood over his face and his shoulder-length brown locks. His right hand was clasped protectively around the silver hilt of a long sword, and upon his index finger was a silver ring, which could be recognized from afar as part of the heirloom of the house of Isuldir.

He was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne in Gondor. He had trekked through the dangerous paths of the Misty Mountains many times before, but unlike all the previous times, he was not traveling with his foster-brothers Elladan and Elrohir. And although he was alone, he did not feel it, for his thoughts were far from his purpose for journeying alone to gather information about the doings of Sauron in far off Mordor. They were instead on the daughter of Lord Elrond, whom he had met not too long ago in the woods of Imladris, his child-hood home.

"Arwen." He muttered dreamily. In his mind he was back in Imladris, walking slowly under the tall oaks that tilted together to form a roof over the sand path, which stood under a beautiful starlit sky. In a little clearing, a few yards ahead, an elven-maid with dark curls rippling down her back and shoulders turned her flawless face to meet the eyes of the man who had called her Tinúviel with her own dazzling clear blue ones. 'Why do you call me that–'

Aragorn's head snapped up, starting at the distant sound of a howling wolf. He lifted his gray-green eyes, squinting through the falling snow, his ears strained for sounds other than the howling wind. He turned around slowly, his fingers tightening its grip on the hilt of his sword. He stopped turning around and just stood there with his ankles buried in the snow, thinking it to be a trick of the wind, for a full minute to let his pounding heart slow down.

He lifted a frozen arm from under his cloak and wiped away the flakes of snow that had managed to find their way to his eyelashes and brows. He shifted the weight of the wood, the bow and a few arrows on his back and continued to walk through the mountain pass, directing his thoughts to the frightening tales of Mordor that he had heard sitting in front of the fire at home. He reached what was probably the last overhang he was going to walk under for the rest of his whole eastward journey, and leaned his back against the side of the mountain, letting it serve as a temporary shelter without walls. His body could just barely feel the cold surface of the rock, but he was too grateful to complain. He closed his eyes, welcoming the rest. He brought his knees to his chest and draped his cloak over himself. His heart rate and breathing slowed and he relaxed as best he could in the frigid cold weather.

Not fifteen seconds had passed before he heard distantly what seemed to be a wolf. He sat up straight and alert. Soon, he heard another howl answering the first. It sounded harsh and positively evil. These were no normal wolves. These were wargs.

_'Where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls' his father's stern yet soothing voice reminded him in his head. He grew frantic at the thought of fighting orcs without the aid of his brothers. He slung his bow and the wood off his back and quickly piled the wood into a heap. His heart felt as though it was going to explode in his chest as he emptied his pockets searching for his pieces of flint._

His stomach churned as the howls steadily came closer and closer. He set a large piece of flint in the middle of his little pile of wood, and he began to hack at it desperately with his sword, which was shaking violently in his hands.

A tiny orange flicker appeared. Aragorn grabbed a thick branch in his left hand and prodded the tip of the flame, trying to set it on fire, which after what seemed to be three hours, he finally succeeded in doing just as he began to hear the too familiar shrieks of the orcs. He grabbed his bow, slung it over his shoulder and stood up, lifting his torch up in his left hand, while he kept his sword pointed in front of him.

He somehow managed to calm himself down by taking in deep breaths of air that froze his whole body. He turned around cautiously, careful not to stray too far away from his little fire: his only hope, save his sword, to drive the wargs away. His fear factor began to increase again as he looked around, seeing nothing, though his ears never stopped picking up loud warg howls and orc shrieks, which were blended together with the wind.

A shiver ran down his back as he saw a pair of bright green eyes with yellow and black pupils gleaming in the dimly lit blackness. Gradually, many more pairs of the same luminous eyes appeared alongside the first. He glanced behind him and was shocked to see that they had not circled around him. He gulped, taking this to be anything but a good sign.

**TBC…**

Hope you liked that. The part about Arwen doesn't really have anything to do with the actual story, when I first wrote this, it was mostly free-writing and a little descriptive writing thing I made myself do. (I suck at descriptive writing). I just ended up keeping it in there.

Please review and tell me how you liked it. Even though I have completed the story, any helpful bits of constructive criticism would really help when I re-edit before my next upload.


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you guys so much! I've never had so many reviews for one chapter before. I hope you find this on as interesting as the first one :)

**Chapter Two**

Aragorn brandished the torch at the eyes, which moved back all together as if a giant force had pushed them back. The green eyes narrowed slightly as their owners let out earsplitting cries, urging their steeds to move forward against their will. The wargs would not heed their rider's commands as their gray eyes eyed the flickering flame the man held in his hand.

Not a creature moved a muscle, standing there under the overhang, precariously close to the edge of the trail. One wrong step and they could fall into a rocky abyss bordered by the towering snow capped mountains. Time seemed to stop under the overhang. No snow blew in, but Aragorn became more and more worried as the seconds went by, for a change in the wind would cause his flame to perish, and there would be no hope of escape.

Gathering his remaining wits, he stooped slowly, keeping his eyes on his attackers, and dropped his sword on the ground. He extended his arm toward the fire, its now free hand groping for the topmost piece of wood. He grasped the warm branch and took a deep breath. He flung the branch at the wargs, grabbed his sword from the snow and began to back away from his dying fire.

The warg let out howls of fury as their tails and fur caught on fire. The orcs riding the flaming creatures were illuminated by the flames. Aragorn was shocked to see how few orcs there were standing in a short line in rows of three, but what shocked him more was the appearance of these orcs. The orcs were not anything but the ones he had battled with on the outskirts of Rivendell. These orcs had green leathery skin like a troll's, a mane of wispy black hair that fell past their dangerously pointy ears. Their luminous green eyes were so big that they gave Aragorn the impression that they had been popped out of their very sockets. They had chains running from their nostrils to their neck, and when they let out battle cries, bright yellow fangs shone in the drooling dark mouths.

The wargs whose fur was aflame were too shocked to do anything about it. After a few seconds, their senses kicked in and they began to shake their bodies, causing their riders to fall of their backs. The wargs stomped furiously and rolled in the snow, trying to put out the flames, unintentionally grounding their riders, who were screaming relentlessly for mercy, into the bitter cold snow.

Aragorn seized his chance in the midst of the chaos and turned around and began to run as fast as his unsteady legs could take him through the snow. He was tripping over the snow, and his torch flickered closer and closer to being extinguished as he waved his sword and torch around, trying to retain his balance.

He had not gotten far before he stopped abruptly. In front of him stood another pack of wargs and orcs. Fire had been set in their hearts when they heard their fellow warriors' cries of anguish and pain. As they caught sight of the man, the wargs began to advance and all the hope of escape fled from Aragorn's body and mind. His quivering hand dug the torch into the ground and he stood behind it, as if it were a shield. He prepared himself for what he was sure going to be his last fight on this Earth, nervously turning his sword in his trembling hand.

He was flattened against the wall of the mountain as the wargs advanced, followed by the orcs that had slid off their backs to fight. Aragorn brought his sword to his left shoulder and brought it clean through the foremost warg's thick neck. He then stuck his blade into the next warg's chest. The whole host stopped in their tracks as the heavy bodies and head fell with a muffled _thud to the floor, dying the snow dark red with blood. _

The wargs gave off a drawn-out, spine shivering growl in unison, which mingled with the orcs' ear-splitting shrieks. They advanced again, this time much faster than the time before. Aragorn was swinging his sword wildly, cleaving off head after head of both warg and orc. But with every head the dropped off each body, Aragorn would only find three more orcs close in on him. His sword dripped with blood and gore, and he had to constantly readjust his grip on the hilt to make sure it didn't slip out of his hands, which nearly happened more than once. He couldn't wipe any off his sword, for fear of having his head cleaved off by those damned orcs.

Aragorn had never fought a battle for so long a time. He was weary beyond words and he felt that if it continued, there would be no point in having won the battle, for he thought it would only be a matter of time before he fell into the ground and froze to death. That was just about to happen when suddenly, an orc emitted a cry.

The orcs stopped in their tracks, they lowered their weapons, and split into two halves, allowing what appeared to be their leader to pass. He was larger and more hideous than all the others. His hair was tied tightly in a high ponytail near the top of his head. His armor was silver instead of the black like the rest of them, and as he passed by, each and every orc's disgusting features turned into a mass of fright and hate.

"We bring him back with us. He could prove useful." With those two short sentences, he swept back into the crowd and disappeared. Two pairs of rough hands immediately grabbed hold of his arms, their scabby oily flesh brushing against his own. It sent his stomach close to tipping out all of the few remaining contents that it held. He struggled wildly in the arms of his captors, and felt the shattering of bones as an armor covered fist punched his chest. He felt himself being hoisted into the air by strong hands that squeezed the air out of his lungs and slung onto someone's shoulder, before blacking out.

**TBC…**

Notes to my beautiful wonderful reviewers:

**Soledad:** thank you so much for your review. That was one of the main reasons why I wrote it. (I wondered why he had journeyed through Moria once before)  
**grumpy:** I thank you for your review as well. I'm glad you liked my first chapter, and I hope this one was just as good :)  
**K-rock:** haha, don't worry, I'll keep her out of the picture :). Though, as I was telling my friend, she may be _mentioned_. I recommend that you read 'Diary of a Father'  by TrinityTheSheDevil, which has Arwen in it, but it isn't mush. It's actually very humorous. I know what you mean, though. Everything with Arwen in it turns out as some kind of ugly romance story. LOL.  
**Cherz:** LOL. I am truly touched, Cheryl, that you actually made an effort ;). I'm just joking. Don't look at me like that!  
**Amnras: Y**our review was wonderful! It really encouraged me to continue posting. I'm horrible at writing long chapters, but I'll try. Thank you sooo much.  
**Dimathiel:** Thank you Jia, you are most kind :) _'where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls_' is actually from The Ring Goes South.   
**Eruanne:** I quite agree. That's why I deleted them. Words of encouragement. Thank you. And there was no sarcasm in that.

Please click the pretty purple 'go' button and help make my day :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Water splashed across Aragorn's face, and his eyes popped open. His face was dripping with water, and his eyelashes were stuck together. He had to blink rapidly many times before they unstuck themselves from his eyeballs. His already drenched tunic absorbed every drop of water that slid off his chin, his nose and fell off his matted hair. Aragorn lifted a sore arm and wiped his face with the ragged cloth that remained of his sleeve, wincing as he struggled to move.

He was leaning painfully against a mountain wall that had sharp rocks jutting out everywhere, pressing into his back and neck. There was no snow around him, and he knew that they must have carried him to the base of the mountain, probably half a day's march at a fast and steady pace without any rest. Through his blurred vision, he could make out a massive hoard of orcs around a fire. They did not seem to be watching him carefully. In fact, as he cautiously moved his head around, he saw that they had left him completely unwatched. He kept him mouth shut, and quieted his breathing as he tried to push himself off the wall. As hard as tried, he could not muster up the energy to do so. He collapsed back into it, a sharp point jabbing right into the center of his back. He accidentally let out a yelp of pain, and immediately shut his mouth as he had aroused the camping orcs' attentions.

A particularly ugly orc sitting at the edge of the ring walked with heavy strides over to him, and greeted him by kicking his legs. Aragorn could just barely feel the pain as he moved his legs carefully trying hard to avoid any more kicks that the orc would send his way.

"Get up, human." The orc growled at him, baring his sharp yellow teeth. Aragorn could do nothing but obey the orders, and he moved his arms so that the palms of his hands were pressed against the dirt ground. He pushed himself up slowly, trying hard to ignore the impatient orc standing in front of him tapping his foot, one hand playing with his whip, the other gently stroking the hilt of its sword. As soon as Aragorn managed to push himself up onto his feet, his knees gave way and he fell in the crumpled heap on the floor he had been while unconscious. The orc grabbed his wrist and pulled him back onto his feet. Aragorn was shoved into the wall and he winced as more pain was added to the pain he had yet to recover from.

The orc strode toward him, and Aragorn drove himself further back into the wall, his fright making him ignore how much pain he was causing himself. _O Eru, take my life now he prayed silently, __spare me this pain and take me from Middle Earth. The orc placed a scabby hand under Aragorn's chin and flipped his head back before using its mangled hands to pry open his mouth. Aragorn promptly snapped his jaws shut again, narrowly missing his own tongue. This obviously displeased the orc, for it tried to pry open the jaws a second time, only to have two rows of pearly white teeth gnash at him. The orc raised its knee, sending it straight into Aragorn's stomach._

"Keep it open, human." it growled in his ear, "I've been waiting a long time to test my little _toy_ on someone." It took a step back and motioned to the hilt of a dagger that was hanging form its black bloodstained leathery belt. Aragorn had no other choice but to open his mouth. "Good. Keep it open now." The orc hissed, raising a dirty flask and pressing it to Aragorn's lips.

Aragorn's eyes widened as the orc began to tip the liquid inside the flask down his throat. Aragorn tried to keep it in his mouth, away from his esophagus, but it burnt his tongue and gums and he swallowed it by reflex, sending the burning sensation from his mouth down to his stomach. From there, it spread to his toes, to his fingers, to his ears and the very roots of his hairs. He shuddered, bathing his mouth in spit, trying to get rid of the bitter taste of the liquid that had clung to his taste buds. He was surprised to find that the strange orc liquid gave him strength and dulled the pain that was surging through ever single nerve in his body. It was somewhat similar to the cordial of Imladris, only it did not taste even half as pleasant.

By this time, the orcs had all stood up and were beginning to move forward at a quick pace into a dead plain and out of the mountains. Aragorn hesitantly raised his foot before placing it back on the ground next to his other. The same orc that had given him the orc draught had lost all patience with the young human and pushed Aragorn over roughly, sprawl-legged onto the ground.

"Get up, or we'll be forced to carry you over the bridge." It kicked at Aragorn's legs again and undiluted pain surged through his right leg. It dragged Aragorn back to his feet by his hair, and he couldn't help yelling out in pain. "Now wouldn't it be a pity if you fell of the bridge into the abyss, and it wasn't even your own fault." The orc growled in his ear.

Aragorn had heard tales of the bottomless pit inside Moria while still a child sitting in the Hall of Fire, and remembering them made him shudder. He wasn't going to die falling off the bridge in the arms of a foul orc. He refused to die because his carrier had been caught up in a fight. Aragorn hurried forward and reluctantly joined in with the rest of the orcs and began to march steadily along the side of the mountain.

**TBC...**

Thank you guys so much! Seven more reviews! :gives hugs to all:

**Down side up: **I'm sorry to say that I laughed when I read your review. But thank you so much!  
**Anmras:** I'm really enjoying your  reviews. I am positively glowing with happiness to know that you enjoy this story :)  
**Soledad:** haha, I'm really sorry if I gave you nightmares. I hope you didn't. I hate those dreams in which I'm being chased by orcs. :shudders:  
**WickedFantasies:** lahdeedah. Fine. Moopy am I? lol!  
**anonymus:** I'm sorry to read that you don't like the way that I am portraying Aragorn. I know Tolkien has this habit of being very unrealistic, but the way I see it, to become the fearless warrior he is at the age of eighty years, he must have gone through some rather unpleasant and frightening experiences in which he cannot bring himself to (practically commit suicide by) fighting a band of orcs and wargs that he knows he cannot overcome.  
**Dimathiel:** eh heh heh. Thanks jia :). It's nice to know that I can now kind of do descriptive writing. I have Chadwick again. :meep!:  
**Ben:** lol. thanks Ben ;)

Now, if you would be so kind as to review again, I would look like one of the radioactive fish that have adapted to their surroundings in Victoria Harbor (place in Hong Kong) that we're making for art. (no, they are not radioactive, nor are they deformed) Only that I would be glowing with happiness.


	4. Chapter Four

Hey guys, sorry for the wait. I've been buried under homework, projects and other stuff like that. I really have been meaning to update, but I decided to end my procrastinating and finish my layout for my website. Anyway, without further ado, I give you:

**Chapter Four**

As Aragorn walked, he racked his brains for all the different ways he could possibly escape from his captors. '_Lothlórien is close by'_ he thought, '_if I could just enter the guarded realm, I would be safe.'_ He shook himself from that thought though, '_don't fool yourself, Estel, Lothlórien is many leagues from here. There is no way you could get there without having orcs hot on your heels!'_

He was miserable marching with the orcs. The draught had long ago begun to wear off, and his legs were starting to seize up. He stumbled upon miniscule pebbles in the ground too often, as he barely lifted his feet off the ground with ever step. The beasts around him were moving at an alarming pace, and he had to struggle to keep up. Behind him, three orcs stood with whips, lashing out at him whenever they felt he was moving too slow, but mostly when they felt like exercising their already well trained skills. "Hurry up, human," they'd tell him, "the sun will rise soon."

Suddenly the whole host slowed, and Aragorn lifted his head to see two large doors swung open, soaking up the dim bluish light of the early morning. The east gate of Moria. Suddenly he finally realized that Moria had been taken over by orcs. Again. He hesitated before the doors, unsure of what he would see. He was pushed from behind and was sent tumbling into the dark.

He stood up quickly, not wanting to be kicked or whipped by the orcs around him, but found himself so closely surrounded that he could just barely breathe in the thick and foul air. He stared at his feet, watching the floor as he walked unsteadily down the uneven steps. Every time he reached a landing, he would stumble into the next orc, thinking that there was another step below the one he had just come off of. He could not see anything in front of him, behind him or on either side, save the heads of the hideous creatures.

The whole host stopped, and they began to filter as if they were being poured through a funnel slowly, one orc at a time. Each orc would stride forward and cross the narrow bridge. Aragorn was scared out of his wits. He tried to keep his head up and look away from the sides of the bridge, but with the orcs pushing him to move faster, he had to keep watch on his footing, or he would send his own self plummeting to his own death.

As soon as Aragorn reached the other side, he was grabbed by four orcs, who grasped hold of his hair, his arms and were even standing on his weary feet. The chief orc strode up swinging around a black covered set of manacles, and cheerfully slapped them onto his wrists, smirking in Aragorn's face. He waved the rest of his orcs away, and they gladly obliged their chief. Grabbing hold of the chain, the orc strode forward, leaving Aragorn to scamper after him, trying hard to keep the heavy chains from dragging his upper body to the ground.

He entered the large and cramped cavern and was thrown back by the horrid stench that met his nose. It smelt of rotting food, day's old urine and feces mixed together. '_So this is the reason for their terrible smell' he mused, trying to keep his spirits up. But as he passed a column, his stomach did a summersault. There were torture machines lined along the walls, and each was busy splattering the blood of those who had upset their superiors. Even with his history of brutal battles, never before had Aragorn witnessed such ugly behavior._

Pieces of flesh rained down like hail upon his head and he jumped aside, colliding with a passing orc. He muttered a quick apology and looked for the source. Right next to the wall, there was a tall sturdy orc that was grabbing hold of the lesser orcs by their feet and running them through an odd looking machine that acted somewhat like a wood chipper head first. Screams of anguish emitted from the machine, and as their brains flew out in a bloody mess, their screams continued to bounce off the wall, creating a great chord of screams. Aragorn had not the heart to watch any further and he diverted his attention elsewhere. There he saw an orc with manacles hooked around its ankles and another set around his wrists. He was lying flat on a rotting wood surface. Aragorn watched in horror as he saw two orcs pushing the blocks of metal further apart. He quickly cast his eyes to the floor, and grimaced as he was splattered with more blood.

He shivered and he hurried behind the chief into the next room. '_Is that what they have in store for me?' Aragorn worried, '__O Eru, why didn't you take me earlier? What wrong did I do to deserve such a horrible death?' He followed closely behind the next weapon lined cavern where orcs were standing over fires and bringing mallets and hammers down on sheets of steel. They stopped their work for seconds at a time to jeer at this newcomer. As they saw the chief they quickly took up their tools and began to pound on the hot metal._

The chief orc walked at an even faster pace as Aragorn scampered behind him through the winding passages that led to unlit rooms deeper underground. Here, the smell of the orcs was milder, and the smell of must and stagnant water took its place. At the end of the very end of the passage, there was a door made up of steel bars. The chief draped the chains it had been holding in its hand over its arm and began to rummage through his garments for a key, which it fit into the keyhole. The door swung wide open and Aragorn was shoved forcefully into the cell.

By reflex he struggled with the orc, who was wider and currently had more strength. It was a useless fight, and the orc hit him upside the head and quickly slammed the door shut to avoid anymore trouble. As he sauntered back to the main halls, Aragorn continued to throw himself at the bars. They shook and rattled, but they did not break. Aragorn gave up all hope and walked backward and slumped against the wall. He crouched down and put his head in his arms and fell into a dreamless deep sleep.

**TBC…**

Okay, so this chapter was a bit of nothingness, but I just wanted to write what I thought an orc inhabited Moria would look like.

**Entwater:** thank you sooo much. I am really very _very_ flattered.  
**Marsman:** hello jon. Thanks for the review. And I pinch you for it! Hah! j/k. lol  
**purple-blue-flames:** I'm rewriting both my stories. I'm completely changing the corruption plot and omens will just be less gay. I'm thinking about changing it a bit as well, but … I'm working on it. I'm out of ideas for now though. It must be the homework ;)  
**dimathiel:** it's not suspense!  
**wickedfantasies:** I've updated! You can stop IMing me to update! lol. yeah, it's the very same draught that merry and pip had shoved down their throats.  
**BEennn:** lol. hi ben. Right now, it's just the stupid geo project. You really freaked me yesterday when you asked if I did geo. Yeesh. I had actually accidentally left MSN and was just sitting around reading.  
**grumpy:** I was actually just thinking that. there are a few stories that have Aragorn tell his ada that he doesn't go looking for trouble, and that trouble seems to find him. Thanks for you review :)  
**anmras:** hahaha, thanks. Canadian idol... is that similar to American idol?  
  


Thanks you guys soo much! If you wouldn't mind just reviewing again...? :D


	5. Chapter Five

**Sorry for taking so long to update, but I've been buried under a huge pile of homework and projects. In fact, this week, I had two tests and two projects to do. And that was on top of the pile of homework that was threatening to topple over should I put one more piece of paper on the top.  
  
**

**Here is the story:**

**Chapter Five**

Aragorn was rudely woken up by brutal pulling at his hair. Whatever had grasped hold of it was enjoying itself by pulling his head around wildly. As his side crashed into the floor, Aragorn, still hugging his knees blearily opened his eyes and took in the laughing orc. His scalp was still tingling with pain and he unsteadily pulled himself onto his feet, before demanding what exactly the orc wanted with him.

"The man's a rather rude one isn't he?" the orc laughed again, jeering at the man in front of him.

"What do you want." Aragorn was loosing his patience and his temples were throbbing.

"The captain told me to bring you to his chambers." With that the orc grabbed Aragorn's chains in the same fashion as his chief had done earlier. They strode back up the dimly lit passageway and back into the main halls. The orcs were all assembled there and were all laughing and jeering at the human that was in captivity. Some of the poked at his arm as he passed, taunting him. The orc leading the way waved them off, saying that they could play with him later, and that the chief wouldn't be very happy with them if they made the man late. The orcs all backed off at this and hurried back to their station and began to work.

Aragorn was led across the hall and into another passage. This one was brightly lit with torches, and seemed to be cleaner than the rest of the whole mines. They reached a sharp turn and they passed through it, finding themselves in the chief's room.

The furnishing in the room surprised Aragorn. He had never thought about orcs sleeping on anything but the ground. Or for that matter, sleeping at all. But there was an uncomfortable looking bed and a ledge in the wall where the chief sat. Standing all around the room were orcs who were obviously of high rank, for they all stood proudly holding their noses in their air, each looking with disdain down at the others. Aragorn saw nothing but the whips and blades they were holding and began to grow frantic. He kicked the small orc that had led him to the chamber and wrenched himself away from its tight grasp. He began to half walk, half run out of the door and began down the passage, running as fast as his feet would carry him.

A sharp blow to the head knocked him off his feet and he was dragged back into the chamber by one of the chief's many captains. Aragorn writhed on the ground as the captain set a heavy boot upon his chest, pushing all the air out of his lungs. He gasped for breath, but the captain only pushed his boot even further.

"What are we going to do to him, eh chief?" one orc asked.

"We're cutting him up and putting him in the mixer of course." Another answered before the chief could say anything. "We'll make a meal out of him, yet. I love ground human bits." It continued, smacking its lips. Aragorn was horrified to hear answering voices of agreement.

"No, don't do that." Another orc argued. Aragorn was relieved to find that he would not become these orcs next dinner. "It's been a while since we last had a man in our midst. Use him as a toy." Aragorn's high hopes disappeared instantly.

"Why should we do that? We could always do it to you instead, _snaga_." This immediately caused uproar. Aragorn, with his head on the floor, saw a smaller captain fly across the room, jumping straight over him and flying at the one who had called him snaga. Aragorn shuddered as the screams bounced off the wall. The unsheathing of a blade sounded and the next thing he knew, there was a dull _thud_ as a head bounced off the floor and landed on Aragorn's chest.

"ENOUGH!" the chief yelled, jumping up from the ledge. The noise ceased and each and every captain hurried back to their positions around the room, carefully avoiding the chief's eye. "Do you _all_ not know the reason for my bringing him back here?" No one dared answer that question, and kept their silence. "How many of you came with me into the mountains last night?" soft murmurs came from all around the room. "Good, now did you not see the skill this man has in battle?"

"Yes, but what are you going to do with him?" ventured one of the more brave.

"What am I going to do with him?" the chief seemed to be offended by this question. "Make him one of us." All around the room, gasps escaped out of the mouths of the captains, but the biggest one of all was from the floor, where Aragorn was still lying, with a captain standing on him.

"But... how?" the same orc asked.

"The same way our ancestors were converted by Lord Morgoth." At this name, the orcs all bowed their heads for a few seconds, before snapping their heads up, grinning wildly and cackling.

The chief dismissed the captain standing on Aragorn's chest, and pulled him up by the hair. "What is your name, human?"

"Telcontar" he said, blurting out the first name that came to mind. It was not wholly untrue, for the men of Bree frequently called him Strider.

"I'm renaming you Snaga, after my good friend." The chief said. Snickers. "Tell me, Snaga, do you know how the orcs came to be?" Aragorn nodded. "Good. For your first lesson, who are our greatest enemies?"

"The elves." This was common knowledge.

"Who do _you hate the most?"_

"You." He spat out.

"Gríshak!" One of the captains hurried forward and whipped him around the legs.

"The elves." Aragorn gasped, unwilling to experience more pain. He prayed that all the elves would forgive him for what he had just said.

"Why?" the captain asked.

"I do not know." The orc whipped him again. He could feel the blood oozing from his back and legs. "I don't know!" He genuinely did not know, for this matter was rarely discussed in Rivendell. He was beginning to feel dizzy as each stroke landed on his back. He had not recovered from his broken bones, and his whole torso was crying out in pain. He closed his eyes and fell onto the ground.

**TBC...**

Only one more chapter to go till the end. I really do hope you guys enjoyed it. If you did, I'd really appreciate it if you showed it through a review ;)  
  
till next update then. :)  
  
**Anmras: **thank you soooooo much! You're the nicest reviewer I've ever had review my fiction. (:. I've never actually watched an episode of American idol, as I don't have cable here. Blargh. But I have watched a commercial!  
  
**bumper:** hey, thanks for your review. Of course he's in a lot of mess! where would the fun be if he weren't? ;)  
  
**dimathiel:** yes, very very long review ;). I will fix the eprops! I hope! lol!


	6. Chapter Six End

**Chapter Six**

Over the next week, Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to the throne, was brought time after time to the chief of the orcs. It had taken almost three days for the chief to believe Aragorn's cries of his not knowing why the elves were hated so much by the orcs. The next four days passed by slowly. He served as a slave, delivering vile smelling meats and liquids that smelt as though they had been ladled out of the rivers flowing out of Minas Morgul. He spent the rest of the day that he was not in the small chamber which held all this tasty food, as they had called it when Aragorn had made a face, or carrying in fresher meats and waters into the chamber, huddled on the ground of his cell.

The same small orc that had pulled his hair and taken him to the chief's chambers was the same that delivered his food twice a day, woke him, and followed him around while he was out of his cell. The food that Aragorn was given were the leftovers of the large meals that the chief ate. The food he ate was meat he had managed to pocket, for he was extremely gifted in the art of stealth, while carrying the fresh meats to the toxic chamber. However, the meats were raw and they made his stomach churn. He had no water either, and his parched tongue was beginning to swell.

The seventh day of his capture, Aragorn was again rudely awoken by the same rough pulling at his hair by the same orc.

"Wha-" Aragorn stifled a yawn, "what time is it?"

"Three in the morning." The orc replied, still tugging at the human's hair. 

"_Three in the morning?" Aragorn stood up slowly "may I ask for the reason of my being woken up in the dead of night?"_

"We're at war!" the orc said, still tugging at the hair. "The chief whishes for you to participate in it."

Aragorn let his legs carry his body out of the cell. The orc dragged him through the already too familiar paths to the chief's chambers. Upon arrival, Aragorn let himself drop to the ground and bowed his head as he was forced to do before the presence of the chief. Through the slight shutting of his eyes as he struggled to stifle yet another yawn, he saw the chief hurriedly walking over to him and he felt himself being pushed back into a standing position. He blinked and looked down to see blood stained chain mail being slipped over his head. It was a little large on his frail torso and it seemed to drag his shoulders down away from his head. He shoved away the orcs who had gathered around him and snatched the gauntlets and the breast plate out of a pair of hands. He quickly snapped on the orc armor shooting death glares at any orc that dared to venture forth from the ring that had formed around him. The chief himself pressed a sword into his right hand, which he was opening and closing and refastening the gauntlets. Aragorn looked down at the sword that he had been given and ran a finger along the edge.

Nothing. Not even the slightest scratch appeared on his calloused thumb.

"Pray tell me the purpose of your giving me a blunt, flat piece of steal? What use is there in sending me out without a weapon worthy of fighting with?" Aragorn said before shoving his way through the ring of orcs, ignoring the narrowing eyes of the chief orc.

"Where do you think you are going, Snaga?" growled the chief.

"To whet this piece of junk you have given me." Aragorn called back over his shoulder. Soon, the sounds of metal scraping metal drifted through the halls and the rest of the orcs that were in the chamber filed out of the room.

----

After a few minutes, Aragorn found himself shuffling along the bridge again clad in the heavy orc armor. Upon his head sat a heavy steel helmet and in his hand was a now very sharp sword. He reluctantly walked up the stairs and out through the Dimrill Gate and into the deep blue early morning. Aragorn stood a few yards from the gate only a few orcs away from the chief. He watched his 'enemies' advance towards them.

He noticed that they used bow and arrow as well as blades. '_Elves?'_ Aragorn thought, '_what on earth are they doing here? And at this time of day?'_ The chief bellowed out what would be words of encouragement, had they not been insults and a series of swear words in the Black Speech. Aragorn continued to stare at the elves, who had a faint glow that surrounded them. Two out of the small group of elves caught Aragorn's eye, and he took of his helmet to get a better look at them. They seemed vaguely familiar but Aragorn could not place them. _'It must be this lack of food and water.' He said to himself convincingly. He watched the two elves a bit longer and soaked in the dark brown hair that was tied tightly in braids that were tied in the same fashion that his father tied his hair in. Their attire was a beautiful plum color. '__Just like the robes of Imladris.' _

Imladris. Elrond. It suddenly dawned on him who these two elves were.

"Elladan! Elrohir!" Aragorn cried out, shouting as loud as he could over the shrieks and the dull thudding of orcs meeting the ground. The two elves ceased their movements and turned their heads in the direction of the gate, both of them sporting looks of utter confusion.

"What was that?" growled the chief orc, who was taking long strides towards the human. 

"Just a... battle cry" Aragorn lied nervously, hoping that Elladan and Elrohir would come to his rescue as they had been doing for as long as he could remember. 

"A battle cry?" said the orc, "those were names you shouted!"

"My forefathers' names." He said, urging his slow mind to wake up.

"I see." the chief said, "Well, you have certainly drawn their attention to you. I hope you're pleased with yourself." it added, grinning nastily. Indeed, Elladan and Elrohir were carving a path through the tide of orcs that had rushed at them. Aragorn dared not help them for the chief was still standing but a few feet away and could easily whip off his head if he rebelled against him, so he stood there as if he had been turned to stone. 

After what seemed to be an age, Elladan finally reached him, Elrohir right behind him, his blade still at work. Elladan extended a hand and raised the human onto his steed.

"Get him!" the chief yelled, pointing an ugly finger in their direction. "Don't let him escape!"

"You have not anything better to do with me anyway," Aragorn called back as his brother galloped back through the path they had made earlier "you were planning to liberate yourself of my presence by giving me a weapon that was useless." 

"When will the day come that we will no longer have to save you from some sort of danger, Estel?" asked the elder of the twins jokingly. They had galloped away from the Dimrill gate, leaving the other elves that had come with them to finish off.

"You had best get used to it," answered their younger brother, "it's a long way away."

"You make a fine orc," said Elrohir, eyeing Aragorn's armor, "a bit tall, however." Elladan laughed, but immediately closed his mouth as soon as he saw the glare Aragorn was giving him. There was a silence.

"What brought you to the gate of Moria?" Aragorn slipped into Elvish, breaking the silence.

"We were in Lothlórien. There were sightings of orcs along the border, so we rode with the Galadhrim."

"Lothlórien? What were you doing there?" Aragorn asked through a yawn.

"We were visiting our grandmother for a few days. Arwen was going back so we thought we might as well go with her." Elrohir replied with a shrug. Elrohir smiled knowingly as a twinkle came to Aragorn's eye as the human heard the name of his sister. All was quiet again as the two Eldar and the Edain rode on towards the obscure shape of the fringe of the forest.

"You know, Estel," said Elladan quietly, turning his head to face his human brother with a wicked grin on his face, "father is also in Lothlórien. He will not be pleased with this latest episode of your never ending troubles."

**The End**

  
So the story ends. This last chapters was fairly stupid, I know, but I had to end it sometime, didn't I?

**grumpy:** I love your reviews, grumpy :) well, he's gotten out of there, who knows what Elrond will do to him though...  
**purple-blue-flames:** I'm sorry about all the delays, but I give you a reviewer's note with good news (:. Even though I haven't finished writing it up yet, I have begun posting Corruption. There's a URL below   
**dimathiel:** lol, a revolt. That's a good one... I never actually thought about that. you're welcome about the layout, but get the scrollbars right. They seem to think hovering over a textarea is the same s hovering over a scrollbar. Hrmm…o.O  
**WickedFantasies:** doo-dee-doo to you too :D. Spad _was_ reading what was on your arm! Or is he such a anti-girl-power-ass who was raising his eyebrow at your 'abnormal' strength? :dances away: or are you suggesting you wrote such profanity on your arm yourself?

Thank you to all of my reviewers who have encouraged me to continue posting this story:  
**hannah, dimathiel, anmras, **cherz, K-rock, **grumpy**, anonymus, **purple-blue-flames,** marsman, ben, soledad, down side up (I stole your idea of sides. Heh heh), entwater, **bumper**, robert.

This is my newest story: Corruption

Story ID: 1545095


End file.
